


enemies with benefits

by klaineanummel



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Jock!Kurt, M/M, jock!blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaineanummel/pseuds/klaineanummel
Summary: Kurt Hummel is the captain of the NYU Violets soccer team. Blaine Anderson is the captain of the Columbia Lions soccer team. They're bitter rivals on and off the field, but that doesn't mean that they can't also be attracted to each other. Right?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 235





	enemies with benefits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notarelationship (justpracticing)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpracticing/gifts).



> Hello everyone!! Welcome to my fic for the Glee Potluck Exchange! :) I have been paired with the wonderful notarelationship, and while I did not receive any official prompt, I did get a bunch of tropes that she enjoys. So, here you go darling! I hope that you enjoy <3 
> 
> Massive thanks to mailroomorder for betaing this fic <3 you're the real MVP. Also, I'm fully aware these fics were supposed to be capped at 5K. lmao oops?
> 
> A small note, more so for those of you well versed in soccer: I am fully aware that the NYU Violets soccer team is not in the same NCAA division as the Columbia Lions (far from it actually). However, in order for the fic to work, I fudged the facts a little bit. I mean, hey, it's an AU, right? So, apologies to any potential die-hard soccer fans out there for this small inaccuracy.

_the seventh time_

It’s the first time they’ve done it at Kurt’s apartment. Not because Kurt doesn’t want Blaine here (though, in theory, he doesn’t), but because he lives with four other guys. All of whom are on the NYU Violets soccer team with Kurt. All of whom have a tendency of coming home earlier than expected, and of walking into Kurt’s room without knocking, no matter how many times Kurt begs them to stop.

He doesn’t feel the need to have his roommates and teammates see him having sex with the captain of the Columbia Lions soccer team.

They’re all out today, though, and Kurt knows this time that they will be out for a very long time. They’re celebrating, after all. 3-2 against the Lions, meaning they’re headed for the semi-finals of the NCAA Division I Tournament, whereas the Lions will have to fight for their spot in a few days.

Winning is one thing, but winning against the Lions? Oh, if Kurt could bottle the absolute joy it brings him, he’d never be sad again.

“Fuck,” he shouts, feeling Blaine’s fingers brush against his prostate. Adrenaline and ecstasy flow freely through his veins, and Kurt thinks he should always have sex after winning a big game, because this is possibly the best sex he’s ever had.

Not that Blaine will ever, ever know that.

Blaine pulls out of him, then comes back with three fingers, shoving them in roughly. Kurt presses his face into his pillow and biting down on the fabric to stop himself from shouting out again. Blaine’s fingers are hot inside him, stretching him much quicker than he usually prefers, especially considering how rare it is for him to bottom.

“Hope you’re ready,” Blaine says, leaning his entire body over Kurt’s to speak directly into his ear, “because I’m tired of waiting to fuck you.”

Kurt turns his head to the side, spitting the pillowcase fabric out of his mouth before he says, “Hope you’re better at topping than you are on the pitch.”

It’s a cheap shot, and not even an accurate one, but he’s still high off his victory and enjoying how rough Blaine is being far too much. He just wants a guarantee that that’s going to continue throughout the rest of their tryst.

As expected--he’s so predictable--Blaine lets out a sound that can only be described as a growl before pulling away from Kurt. Kurt keeps his cheek pressed against the pillow, swaying his ass gently, invitingly, as he listens to Blaine struggle to put on his condom.

Soon enough, there’s hands on his ass checks, spreading them a bit further than Kurt usually prefers, and a slick, latex-covered cockhead pressing against his hole.

“Fucking come on,” Kurt grumbles. “See, this is why we keep beating you, because you don’t know when to fucking – _holy shit_.”

He’s full in an instant, hips arching high, Blaine’s fingernails digging into them. He reaches up and grabs onto the rail at the head of his head just in time for Blaine to pull out and immediately push back in.

“Shit, Blaine,” the rail digs into Kurt’s palm, but he doesn’t care, because Blaine just keeps fucking in and out of him, and Kurt still hasn’t really adjusted to the size of him and _fuck_ it’s good. “Yes, fuck me, come on.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Blaine mutters, so quiet that Kurt isn’t sure he’s actually supposed to hear. “Or does the sound of your own voice turn you on?” Okay, so he was definitely supposed to hear.

He isn’t sure how to respond to that because yes, he actually does like to talk while he’s having sex – not because he likes the sound of his own voice, but because he loves hearing his lovers during sex as well, and him talking is the best way of ensuring that happens. But he’s not sure he wants Blaine to know that. Really, Blaine already knows too much about what he likes in bed. He doesn’t need the man who’s been his biggest rival the entirety of his university career to know _everything_.

Finally, he settles on, “Fuck me harder and find out.”

Blaine lets out a low half-scoff half-chuckle at that, and Kurt smirks to himself. 

“Or, what?” He continues, tilting his head to the side as though that will allow him to see Blaine any better. “Is this as good as you can give? Because if that’s the case, then no wonder we beat you today.”

“You are such,” his thrusts speed up, and Kurt keens happily, letting his face melt into his pillow and his headboard rail burn into his palm, “an asshole.”

The irony of the statement makes Kurt laugh, which just makes Blaine increase his speed even more, putting a definite pause on the laughter.

The adrenaline spiking through him is mixing with his pleasure, and Kurt can tell that he’s going to come soon. It’s the fastest he’s come in a long time, and he can’t stand the fact that it’s Blaine Anderson who brought him there.

He brings his own hand down to his cock, stroking himself quickly.

“You going to come?”

Kurt just nods against his pillow, biting down on his lip to stop himself from saying anything potentially embarrassing.

“Thank fuck,” Blaine says. “Been on the edge since I pushed into this tight ass.”

Kurt bites into the pillow again as his orgasm hits him. He pumps in and out of his own fist, ass muscles clenching tightly around Blaine’s cock.

“Holy shit,” Blaine says, and Kurt can feel his fingernails digging a little deeper into his hips. He’s definitely going to have some kind of mark there tomorrow.

Blaine’s rhythm becomes a little more erratic as he fucks Kurt through his own orgasm. Kurt lets him, sated and boneless after his own.

When Blaine is done, he immediately pulls out and falls onto the mattress next to Kurt, chest heaving, eyes glued to the ceiling.

Kurt watches him for a moment. Watches the way his eyelashes brush against his cheekbones every time he blinks. Watches the way his pink tongue slips out to wet his equally pink lips. Watches the way his amber eyes are never still, not even now, staring at the absolute nothingness of Kurt’s ceiling.

He watches him until his heart gives an uncomfortable tug and he has to stop watching because that’s not a road he wants to go down.

He moves his own gaze up to the ceiling as well, and then says, “You’re a sore loser, huh?”

Blaine immediately elbows him in the side, and it feels better. More normal. The way things have always been and need to stay.

_the tenth time_

He’s not at all surprised to see Blaine leaning against the wall opposite the door to the Violets locker room. He’s wearing possibly the tightest jeans Kurt has ever seen him in, and a light purple crewneck that’s doing absolutely illegal things to his arms.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Blaine asks, not moving from his spot.

Kurt shrugs his duffle bag higher onto his shoulder. “You here to rub it in?”

Blaine stays still, and Kurt really wishes he’d do something with his body, anything to give Kurt even the slightest indication of where he’s going with this.

When Blaine doesn’t respond for a few moments, Kurt says, “Because if you are, you can save it. I already feel fucking awful, and I don’t think I’m up for one of our snipe sessions.”

Blaine still doesn’t say anything, though Kurt notices his left eyebrow has raised the tiniest bit.

“You know how much this sucks for me?” Kurt can’t help it. He feels raw from the loss, and the almost half-hour shower he’d just taken to try and rid himself of the feeling had done absolutely nothing. All of his teammates have left already, quietly expressing their condolences to him, a few reminding him that they’re planning to get spectacularly drunk at their favorite bar a few blocks down.

Kurt doesn’t feel like getting drunk. He doesn’t feel like sitting around with the team he knows he let down while they all try to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t want to be faced with the reminder that it’s actually completely over.

“You have another shot at this,” Kurt continues, one hand gripping the strap of his duffle bag tightly. His other hand points accusingly at Blaine, not close enough to actually push him but wanting more than anything to do so. “You get another year to redeem yourself, to get the win for your team. I’m done. This was it for me. I’m graduating in a few months, and since we didn’t even make it into the semi-finals, I know that not a single scout is going to contact me, which means that my soccer career is over. I’ve fucking peaked. Now I have to finish my dumbass degree, and then get some bullshit office job that I’ll fucking dread going to every day of my damn life, and all because—”

He doesn’t get to finish the outpour of emotions. Blaine closes the distance between them and interrupts him mid-sentence with a deep, forceful kiss on the lips. His hands come up to cup Kurt’s face, bringing him close.

It takes Kurt a moment to catch up, but as soon as he does, he lets himself melt into the kiss. He wraps his free arm around Blaine’s waist, pulling his middle in closer to Kurt and feels his other hand relaxing around the strap of his bag.

Blaine breaks the kiss, separating with a soft smack of the lips. “I know,” he says, hands still on Kurt’s cheeks, forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

Kurt nods as well as he can between Blaine’s hands. He licks his lips, then asks, “Is your roommate home?”

Blaine shakes his head.

Kurt nods again, and says, “Perfect.”

_the eleventh time_

Just an hour ago Kurt had been fucking into Blaine from behind, letting himself be more forceful than he usually was, his anger at the defeat seeping into every single thrust.

Blaine let him. There were no jabs, no snipes, no bitchy or petty comments. He just let out a few, “Keep going’s,” every now and then to let Kurt know that he was okay with what was happening.

Now, Kurt is lying on his back on Blaine’s bed, with Blaine’s head between his legs, gorgeous lips wrapped tightly around Kurt’s cock.

Kurt can’t stop staring at him, heart jackrabbiting in his chest. His curls are still drying from the shower he’d taken earlier and are so soft around Kurt’s fingers. He keeps shifting his fingers through them, wanting to memorize the feel of them in case he never gets this chance again.

They don’t do this. Or, at least they never have before. It’s always either been quick handjobs in shower stalls after games or fucking in one of their apartments. For some reason, to Kurt, going down on Blaine always felt like it was too much. Too vulnerable. Giving Blaine too much power.

Yet, here Blaine is, doing exactly that. He bobs up and down slowly on Kurt’s cock, swallowing around him every so often, tongue caressing the underside of his dick with every movement of his head.

It feels like he’s worshiping Kurt’s cock, and Kurt doesn’t really know how to feel about it.

Because what he’s realizing now is that he isn’t the one with the power here. Blaine may be the one doing all the work, but it’s Kurt who feels vulnerable. It’s Kurt who feels powerless. It’s Kurt whose heart is practically beating out of his chest, begging for him to just hand it to Blaine on a silver fucking platter.

“Blaine, I’m—”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Blaine brings a hand up and wraps it around the base of Kurt’s cock, then increases his speed, bobbing up and down and Kurt’s cock faster, tongue finding the underside of his cock and focusing on the skin there.

“Blaine,” Kurt warns, tightening his hold on Blaine’s curls. “Blaine, pull off. I’m going to—”

Blaine doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull off, and before he can stop himself Kurt is coming down Blaine’s throat, head falling back against the pillow and eyes closing as he feels Blaine’s cheeks hollow around him, carrying him through the orgasm.

As though reading his mind, Blaine pulls off exactly when Kurt starts to feel sensitive, and Kurt flutters his eyes open just in time to see Blaine swallow heavily.

Blaine moves up until he’s directly next to Kurt, staring right into his eyes with an intensity that Kurt isn’t sure he’s ever seen off the field.

“It’s not over for you,” Blaine says. He reaches a hand out and finds Kurt’s, linking their fingers together. “You’re going to do amazing things in your life, Kurt. One loss isn’t the end. You’re right at the beginning.”

Kurt nods, the words warming his stomach and drying out his throat. He can feel tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, and god, as if this whole experience wasn’t embarrassing enough already now, he’s going to, what? Cry?

“That’s, um.” He has to pause to clear his throat, as his voice comes out scratchy and low. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Blaine shrugs, a small, private smile on his lips. “Don’t get used to it, Hummel.”

Kurt’s heart stutters in his chest, and he finds himself smiling as well even as he already starts to sit up, letting Blaine’s hand go to pick up his clothes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Anderson.”

_the fifteenth time_

It’s different between them since the Violets got eliminated from the tournament. Not just because they’ve now officially exchanged phone numbers and actually arrange to meet up instead of simply falling into bed together every time they have a match or after running into each other at some sports bar.

No, it’s different because they actually talk to each other now. It’s not just petty insults, sex, a few more petty insults, and see you later. Now Kurt finds himself sticking around for a bit after the sex at Blaine’s apartment to ask about his day, his classes, his life. And the one time they managed to do it at Kurt’s apartment he found himself looking for excuses to keep Blaine around longer than necessary, to the point where his roommate Mike almost caught Blaine leaving.

He can’t help it. He may hate Blaine’s team, and in theory Blaine for being the captain of said team, but as a person Blaine is…

Well, he’s quite possibly the kindest person Kurt has ever met.

“Slow down,” Blaine says, legs coming up so that he can hook his ankles together over Kurt’s lower back. “Sam’s going to be out all night, you don’t need to rush.”

Kurt nods and does as Blaine asks, slowing down until he’s just gently rolling his hips, not even really thrusting. Blaine’s eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a silent show of enjoyment.

And this is the other thing that’s changed – they never fucked face-to-face before. It was always either back-to-chest if they were in the shower, or with one of them on all fours in bed. Yet, this is the third time they’ve done it, and honestly, Kurt is starting to wonder if there’s a way he can request that they stop.

Because actually seeing Blaine’s face while they do this? Looking into his eyes as he talks while they fuck? Watching him as he falls apart under Kurt’s ministrations?

It’s getting to be a little too much.

“Fuck,” Blaine whispers, eyes still shut. He rolls his hips in time with Kurt’s, and a small smile appears on his face. “Don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but you’re fucking amazing at this.”

Kurt’s stomach constricts. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Blaine’s eyes open slowly, a slight frown on his face. He reaches a hand up to cup Kurt’s cheek, fingers spreading wide enough to completely cover the left side of Kurt’s face.

With far too much inflection in his voice, he says, “No. I don’t.”

Then, he tilts his head up and presses their lips together, flicking his tongue against Kurt’s in time with the slow movements of their hips.

Kurt lets himself be kissed, lets himself fall into the feeling of Blaine’s warm mouth and Blaine’s ass tight around his cock, loses himself in the emotions it sparks in him.

It’s definitely getting to be too much.

_the twenty-first time_

Kurt and his roommates decide to celebrate the fact that they’re all back in New York after the holidays by going out for drinks at the bar a few streets down. It’s usually a pretty quiet spot since it’s decently out of the way, which is what makes it all the more surprising when they walk in to find Blaine and a few of his fellow Lions sitting in the booth right next to the door.

“Oh jeez,” Kurt mutters, just as Mike says, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Blaine instantly stands, eyes flying between the five Violets, only lingering on Kurt for a second longer than on all the rest. “Hey Violets.”

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Matt is scowling down at them, Mike has his arms crossed over his chest, Jake has a massive scowl on his face, and Kurt is just now realizing how ridiculous this rivalry is. “This is NYU town.”

“We’re not trying to start anything,” Blaine assures, raising his hands with palms out. “Honest. Just heard some amazing things about the wings and nachos here, and we couldn’t figure out where else to go.”

“Bit far for chicken wings and nachos,” Kurt mutters, feeling his cheeks warm, fully aware that he’s the one who told Blaine about this place.

“They’re _really_ good chicken wings and nachos,” Blaine says, eyes meeting Kurt’s, whose blush worsens under his gaze. He looks away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever,” Elliott, shakes his head. “Let’s go somewhere else. I can’t eat with these guys stinking up the bar.”

“Oh, come on,” Kurt rolls his eyes, putting a hand on Elliott’s chest to stop him from turning around to leave. “The season’s done, and we’re all seniors. We’re not rivals anymore, just… five guys who won’t eat at a bar that some other random guys are at? That’s insane,” he shakes his head and pushes Elliott back a little. “We’ll just go sit in the corner and ignore them. Who gives a shit?”

His teammates grumble about it, but they still follow him toward the back corner of the bar, throwing glares behind them every now and then.

“You’ve changed, Hummel,” Elliott says, sliding into the booth and sitting next to him. “A few months ago you would have forced those assholes out on their asses for even daring to come to our turf.”

“Yeah, well, a few months ago we still had a chance at being NCAA champions. Now we’re just college students eating at a bar. Doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”

“Is it too late to rescind your captainship?” Mike throws out, to which Kurt replies by flipping him off.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out, eyes widening when he sees Blaine’s name on his screen. He glances over at Blaine and tries to shake his head as subtly as possible, because he cannot be reading texts from him in front of his freaking teammates.

Blaine just widens his eyes and gestures down to his phone with his head. Kurt looks away, but still sneaks a look at his phone, trying to do his best to hide it from Elliott’s gaze without making it too obvious that that’s what he’s doing.

 _You didn’t tell me you were back in New York already_.

Kurt rolls his eyes and shoves his phone in his pocket. He looks over to Blaine, mouthing, _really?_

Blaine shrugs, and Kurt rolls his eyes again, then turns away to focus on his roommates.

It’s at least twenty minutes before his phone buzzes again. He ignores it, pretty sure that it’s from Blaine. But it buzzes again, and again, and again, until he finally grabs it, already shaking his head at what he knows is waiting for him.

_Come over tonight._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Come over tonight._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

_Kurt._

Kurt exhales sharply, shaking his head to himself as he quickly types back.

**_Your use of periods at the end of every text is unnerving_ **

He doesn’t bother putting his phone away, as sure enough, within moments he has a reply from Blaine.

_Please come over tonight. Sam is going to his girlfriend’s. Please._

He bites down on his bottom lip, then sighs and texts back: **Fine, but stop ending all your texts with periods you look like a grandpa**

Blaine instantly responds: _Scouts honour. Text me when you’re leaving here_

Kurt rolls his eyes to himself, then puts his phone back in his pocket.

Elliott elbows him, and when Kurt looks up it’s to find him waggling his eyebrows. “Boy trouble?” he asks.

Kurt just shakes his head and mutters, “Yeah, something like that.”

*

Blaine rides him that night, gripping his shoulders tightly as he does so, bouncing up and down on Kurt’s cock in a way that makes Kurt absolutely crazy.

He isn’t really sure how he managed to go two whole weeks without this.

When they’re done, Blaine lays down next to Kurt. He doesn’t lean in to cuddle, they still never do that, but he does lie down in such a way that they’re completely pressed together, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Their hands touch awkwardly, and Kurt wonders if he’s supposed to hold Blaine’s hand.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“You ask like I can stop you from doing so.”

Blaine chuckles at Kurt’s response, and his index finger comes out to run down Kurt’s palm.

“I went to that bar on purpose,” he says, voice quiet. “I was hoping to run into you.”

Kurt licks his lips, forcing his eyes to remain on the ceiling, trying to ignore the way the pad of Blaine’s finger feels against the inside of his hand.

“Why?” his voice is a little hoarse, his throat dry, and his heart is beating far too fast in his chest.

He can feel Blaine shrugging his shoulders next to him. “Wanted to see you. We barely talked over the break.”

“I know,” Kurt says. He had purposefully refrained from texting Blaine, even though his fingers had itched to do so every single day. “You could have just texted to see if I was back.”

Blaine shrugs again. “I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, but then says, “I didn’t want to text you, though. I wanted to see you.”

“But why?”

This time Blaine doesn’t shrug. He doesn’t really say anything.

Kurt sighs, then sits up. “I should probably leave.”

“No, don’t go,” Blaine sits up too, putting a hand over Kurt’s wrist. “Come on, we haven’t seen each other in forever. Just hang out. Tell me about your break.”

“Blaine…”

“Kurt, come on.”

Kurt rubs a hand over his face. “Blaine, what the hell are we doing here?”

Blaine stares at him, lips parted as though on the cusp of words, but nothing comes out.

Kurt shakes his head. “This is insane. You know I genuinely disliked you when we started this? I mean, I thought you were hot, but you were so obnoxious on the field, and the Violets and Lions hate each other, so I just…” His hand goes through his hair, pushing it back. “But now we’re here, and we keep ending up here, and I don’t even know what to think about all this because you’re so…”

“I didn’t like you either,” Blaine says. Kurt meets his eyes, deep amber that he’s always terrified of drowning in. “I really didn’t. You were cocky, and so quick on your feet both on and off the field. So damn gorgeous it infuriated me.” He moves a little closer. “I didn’t think sleeping together would change anything. Just another way to channel our aggression.”

“Right,” Kurt says. “But we’re not soccer rivals anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“But we’re not really friends either,” Kurt continues. “We’re just… two guys who sleep together sometimes.”

Blaine’s finger finds Kurt’s hand again, and he starts tracing a pattern on his palm. “I consider you a friend.”

Kurt closes his eyes, head falling back slightly. “Shit, this is a mess.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be complicated, or messy, or any of those things.”

“Blaine…”

“Look, why don’t we, I don’t know. Hang out sometime. No sex, just… coffee, or lunch. Just talking.”

Kurt opens his eyes, but just enough to glare ever so slightly at him. “You mean like a date or something?”

Blaine shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Kurt sucks on the inside of his cheek, eyes still narrowed at Blaine. He takes in a deep breath, heart pounding in his chest. “Fine.”

Blaine’s face immediately lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah. But it’s not a date,” Kurt holds a finger up. “Just two guys getting lunch. No funny business.”

“Cross my heart,” Blaine does so, grinning widely. He looks over Kurt’s chest, then says, “You’re not still going to leave, right?”

Kurt continues to glare at him despite the warmth spreading through him at the obvious interest Blaine is showing him. He rolls his eyes, then says, “Fuck it. I didn’t have any other plans tonight.”

Blaine goes to lay back down, shoulders doing an adorable little shimmy, and Kurt follows him back down, finally allowing a small smile onto his face.

_the twenty-second time_

Kurt chooses a hole in the wall pizza place that he knows is just that much more out of the way for Blaine. He asks to meet at one, knowing that Blaine has a class at three-thirty that he can’t skip. He wears a sweatshirt and a loose pair of sweatpants. He barely spends any time on his hair. He reminds himself five times that morning that he will not offer to pay for Blaine, nor will he let Blaine pay for him.

Basically, he does everything in his power to make this as obviously _Not-A-Date_ as possible. 

Blaine is already there when Kurt arrives, dressed casually in beige chinos and a warm, soft-looking peacoat. He has his messenger bag hanging over his shoulder, and his hair is gelled back impeccably. He looks nice, and it kind of makes Kurt feel bad for wearing his most casual clothes and for shoving a beanie on his head before walking out the door, telling himself it’s to protect his ears from the cold and not because he knows it’ll make his hair look suboptimal.

He greets Blaine with a smile, then heads into the restaurant before Blaine can try and hold the door open for him. Blaine follows, already happily chatting away about how his day has been thus far.

They place their order at the counter, only briefly arguing over the financial benefits of sharing a pizza (what Blaine wants to do) versus each just ordering a few slices for themselves (what Kurt wants to do). Blaine ends up winning, but Kurt still forces the cashier to split the bill between them as she rings them up.

 _Not-A-Date_.

Blaine starts to lead them towards a table in the back of the restaurant, but Kurt sits down at a table between a large group of college kids and a bickering middle-aged couple. Blaine looks at him a little weird, but Kurt doesn’t let that phase him.

_Not-A-Date._

They chit-chat as they wait for their pizza, and it’s way less awkward than Kurt thought it would be. Blaine seems to have an endless supply of conversation fodder, and he somehow makes even the most inane things sound interesting. Kurt doesn’t say much, only chiming in whenever Blaine asks him a purposeful question, but he doesn’t mind at all. He’s actually pretty sure that Blaine could monologue at him for hours and Kurt would be happy just to sit there and watch him do it.

 _Not-A-Date_.

Their pizza arrives and they tuck in. Blaine is a surprisingly neat eater, taking small nibbles and wiping any grease from around his mouth after every few bites. Kurt, on the other hand, practically inhales his pizza. It isn’t even a ploy to prove that this isn’t a date – Kurt’s had to get used to racing through any shared food after growing up with a human garburator as a step-brother and spending the past two years living with four similarly inclined roommates.

Blaine watches him devour his half of the pizza in the time it takes Blaine to finish a slice and half, lips curled into a tiny half smile. Once Kurt has popped the last bit of crust into his mouth, Blaine wordlessly holds out a handful of napkins to him, one eyebrow quirked, and Kurt blushes as he wipes down his hands and a large amount of his face.

“You got a bit on your sweater, too,” Blaine says when Kurt sets down the tiny mountain of napkins on the table. Kurt looks down and groans at the rather spectacularly sized grease stain on his chest.

He dabs at it with a few more napkins, but gives up after a few moments, rolling his eyes and stating, “Whatever, Elliott’s magic with this kind of thing, I’ll just make him fix it later.”

Blaine chuckles at that and takes another small bite of his pizza, eyes dancing as they stay locked on Kurt’s as he chews.

 _Not-A-Date_.

Kurt takes over the majority of the conversation as Blaine eats, and he keeps it as surface as possible. He mostly talks about school, going into as much detail as he can about all the classes he’s taking this semester, how he only has one class with a professor he’s never had before, and how he has at least one teammate in every class, something he didn’t coordinate but is more than thankful for.

Blaine doesn’t seem to react any differently to Kurt mentioning his teammates than he did to any of Kurt’s other stories, but Kurt still decides not to continue down that particular conversation stream. As much as he’s trying to keep this _Not-A-Date_ , he’s also been having a great time, and he doesn’t want to ruin that by potentially bringing up anything that could lead to a discussion about their rivalry.

Barely an hour has passed since they arrived by the time Blaine finishes his pizza. He wipes his lips and fingers down one final time, smiling a bit too widely at Kurt as he does.

“This was really fun.”

 _Not-A-Date_.

“We should do this more often. You know, just hang out.”

 _Not-A-Date_.

“You’re a really cool guy, Kurt.”

_Not-A-Date._

“I’m glad you agreed to this.”

_Not-A-Date._

“I’m just sorry that I have to head out so soon. My class is at three-thirty, and the Columbus campus is—”

_Not-A-Date._

_Not-A-Date._

_Not-A-Date._

“Skip it.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, and Kurt’s heart skips a beat. _Take it back, take it back, tell him you didn’t mean it, tell him—_

“What?”

 _Take it back_. “Skip your class,” the words come out, his mouth seemingly ignoring all commands from his brain. “Come home with me.”

Blaine presses his lips together, but Kurt can still see the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“I thought you said no funny business.”

Kurt swallows thickly, cheeks heating up. He looks down at the empty pizza box on their table and the heaps of napkins tossed around it.

“Right. Well, you have class, so.”

He hears Blaine chuckle and brings his eyes up hesitantly at that. Blaine is no longer hiding his smile, and his eyes are so warm on Kurt’s that it makes his heart ache a little.

“The semester just started,” Blaine says. “I think I can afford to skip this once.”

 _Not-A-Date_.

*

It’s faster than usual, Kurt feeling pent up from trying to keep things so casual before. They don’t even get fully undressed, basically just shrug out of their coats once they’re in Kurt’s room and fall into Kurt’s bed, pulling their dicks out and jacking each other off like goddamn teenagers until Kurt’s sweatshirt and Blaine’s vest have tiny stains of come dotting them.

“Crap,” Blaine says once they’ve cleaned themselves up and made themselves somewhat more presentable, looking down at his vest with a bit of a pout. “Sam is going to be so mad at me for doing another load of laundry so soon.”

“Sorry,” Kurt replies, purposefully stopping himself from looking down at the various marks now staining his own sweater.

Blaine looks up at him, smiles, leans over and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“Worth it,” he says with a grin.

Kurt smiles back, then picks up his phone to check the time. “It’s only two forty-five,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “You could probably still make it to your class.”

Blaine scrunches up his nose and says, “Nah. I’d rather keep hanging out with you,” he presses another kiss to Kurt’s lips. “You want to go for a walk?”

Kurt narrows his eyes at that. “It’s freezing out, Blaine.”

“So, change into something warmer.”

His eyes are sparkling, lips spread into an infectious grin, and Kurt chuckles as he stands and heads to his closet.

“Fine. But if I freeze out there, I’m totally blaming you.”

Blaine laughs, shaking his head lightly and says, “Deal.”

 _Not-A-Date my ass_.

_the twenty-third time_

Blaine keeps up the façade of hanging out as just friends, no funny business, when he asks Kurt to come over for a movie night a couple of days after their not-a-date at the pizza place. Except he’s very clear that Sam will be out all night with his girlfriend, and that maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea for Kurt to bring an overnight bag just in case things run late and he wants to crash on Blaine’s couch.

Kurt wants to call him out on how Obviously-A-Date this is, but he also wants to go and doesn’t really feel like getting into it with Blaine.

So, he packs his bag, tells his roommates that he’ll be back the next morning (pointedly ignoring the catcalls they send his way) and hops on the subway to Blaine’s apartment.

In Blaine’s defense, he’s done a good job of playing up the excuse for getting Kurt to spend the night. There’s a folded up blanket and a pillow on the arm of the couch, and Blaine is just as dressed down as Kurt was the last time they met up.

It’s still very much Obviously-A-Date, though, because instead of ordering food in Blaine has cooked them dinner. It’s just pasta, but the effort gone into it doesn’t go over Kurt’s head. He’s also bought a fairly nice bottle of red wine to go with the pasta, and after they’ve eaten produces the most scrumptious looking homemade cinnamon buns that Kurt has ever seen out of the oven.

“I like to bake,” is what Blaine says when Kurt tells him that it’s too much for just a movie night. Which may be true, but Kurt also knows that cinnamon buns are tricky and time-consuming as he, too, likes to bake. He, for one, only makes them when he’s trying to impress someone.

Which, if Blaine is trying to do, is definitely working.

They settle into the couch after their dinner and start up on some shitty romantic comedy on Netflix.

At the start of the movie they’re each comfortably on separate sides of the couch, sharing knowing looks whenever something particularly cliché happens. Then, about fifteen minutes in, Blaine stands up to go get another cinnamon bun, and when he sits back down, he is significantly closer to Kurt.

It’s quite distracting having Blaine so close to him, especially when he starts to lick the excess icing off his fingers after every single bite. Kurt spends the next five minutes ignoring the movie in favor of watching Blaine lave his tongue over his own fingers, cock growing hard in his pants at the memory of that tongue on himself.

Blaine catches Kurt looking moments after popping the last piece of the bun into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow, still licking the icing off of his fingers, and then far too innocently asks, “What?”

Kurt practically pounces on him at that, covering Blaine’s lips with his own and licking out the taste of the icing from his mouth. Blaine moans into the kiss, pulling Kurt closer and almost immediately wrapping a leg around his hips to bring them down onto Blaine’s.

The movie is still running, ignored, in the background when they hop off the couch and hurry to Blaine’s room hand-in-hand.

At least they can say they tried, right?

_the twenty-seventh time_

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine is under him, Kurt’s hands splayed over his chest as Kurt bounces on his cock. His thighs burn, but Kurt ignores them, fucking himself faster on Blaine’s cock as he feels his orgasm building.

“I’m—”

“Me, too,” Kurt says, fingers digging into Blaine’s chest. Blaine wordlessly brings a hand up to Kurt’s cock, wrapping his fingers around it as Kurt continues to speed up his thrusts.

“Shit,” Kurt groans, head falling back as Blaine pumps his cock in time with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before Kurt is coming all over his own stomach and Blaine’s hand, and within moments he feels Blaine convulsing beneath him as he comes as well.

He practically collapses on top of Blaine once he’s come down, causing Blaine’s dick to slip out of him. Blaine groans at the sensation, and Kurt grumbles into his chest.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he mutters.

Blaine laughs at that, gently pushing Kurt off of him until he is lying next to him instead of directly on top. “Soccer season ending has got you a little out of shape, huh?”

“Get fucked,” Kurt mutters, whacking Blaine on the chest with as much energy as he can summon. Which isn’t actually that much, as the action only makes Blaine laugh a little louder.

“Just did,” comes Blaine’s reply after a few moments.

Kurt can’t even sum up the energy to act annoyed about that, so instead he just mutters a string of words that don’t even make sense into Blaine’s chest, resting his face on its warmth.

“I didn’t quite get that,” Blaine teases, fingers coming up to card through Kurt’s hair.

“Me neither,” Kurt says, sighing at the feeling of Blaine’s fingers.

Blaine chuckles and continues to move his fingers softly. It feels like heaven, the gentle feeling against his scalp in contrast to the burning in his legs. He settles further into Blaine’s chest, pressing a soft kiss to the skin beneath his lips, then lets his cheek rest there.

“My mom got me tickets to West Side Story for Christmas,” Blaine whispers, continuing his ministrations on Kurt’s hair.

“Yeah?” Kurt responds, just to let Blaine know he heard him. His eyes flutter shut as he feels himself relaxing further and further into the bed.

“They’re for next week,” Blaine continues, and Kurt can hear his heart speeding up a little where his head is lying.

Kurt’s finger starts to make a circle on Blaine’s side, where it’s been resting.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you asking me to go to West Side Story with you?”

Blaine’s heart is definitely beating faster now, and it makes Kurt smile to himself. It’s not every day that he can literally feel the nerves that asking him out is making someone feel.

“Just as friends,” Blaine says quietly, fingers stilling. “No… no funny business.”

Kurt’s smile grows against Blaine’s chest at the words.

Because it’s silly, isn’t it? They’ve hung out so many times over the past few weeks, just as friends, no funny business, and every single time has ended with them in bed and Kurt leaving with a mental countdown to the next time they’ll meet up.

He’s starting to wonder what the point of all this “just friends” stuff really is. Other than a nonsensical fear over people’s reaction to the fact that he may actually like Blaine.

After all, it’s been clear since the first time that Blaine asked him to hang out that Blaine didn’t want it to be just as friends. That something had changed for Blaine throughout their time together. And maybe the first time he’d asked him Kurt wasn’t completely certain if things had changed for him too, but ever since the day at the pizza place, their hang out after, and the subsequent Not-A-Date’s they’ve been on…

“No,” Kurt says, opening his eyes slowly.

He could swear that Blaine’s heart literally skipped a beat when he said it, and Kurt instantly regrets playing coy.

“No?” Blaine asks, removing his fingers from Kurt’s hair.

“No, I mean,” Kurt pushes himself up on his hands so that he can look at Blaine when he says it. “I don’t want it to be just as friends with no funny business.” Blaine’s lips part a bit, one eyebrow raising.

“Then what would it be?” Blaine asks, and Kurt would be annoyed at the impertinence, but he guesses he kind of deserves it.

“A date?” He asks, shrugging one shoulder up and sending Blaine a hesitant smile.

Blaine’s face cracks into a happy smile. “Yeah?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, wrapping an arm firmly around Kurt’s back. Kurt takes the hint and leans back down onto Blaine’s chest, happy when Blaine’s free hand goes back to his hair. “A date.”

“A date,” Kurt repeats, pressing another kiss to Blaine’s chest.

_the twenty-eighth time_

“You’re looking spiffy Hummel,” Mike says when Kurt exits his room. He grins at his friend, doing a little spin for him and Elliott, who are both sitting on the couch in their living room dicking around the PS4.

“Hot date?” Elliott asks, waggling his eyebrows as Mike wolf-whistles when Kurt finishes the spin.

“I sure do,” Kurt says, rubbing his hands down his thighs and licking his lips. “With Blaine.”

Mike and Elliott instantly frown, turning to each other with narrowed eyes.

“Blaine?”

“As in…?”

Kurt nods. “Yes, as in Blaine Anderson, Captain of the Columbia Lions. That Blaine.”

“Kurt are you—”

“Serious? Yes, I am,” Kurt says, glaring at Elliott, who snaps his mouth shut at the interruption. “I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t.”

“When… how…?” Mike glances between Kurt and Elliott as he stammers, then settles his eyes on Kurt. “I don’t understand.”

“A while, and the how is not important,” Kurt says, not feeling like getting into the hate-sex-becoming-feelings portion of this just yet. “What is important is that I like him, and we’re going to see West Side Story, and if any of you give me any shit over this, I will not hesitate to kick your ass to Tuesday.”

Both Elliott and Mike raise up defensive hands, but neither speaks.

Kurt nods, then says, “Great. I’ll see you guys after my date. Or,” he scrunches up his nose, then says, “Maybe not. We’ll see.”

They don’t say anything else as Kurt leaves, and Kurt shuts the door behind him feeling like he just let a huge weight off his shoulders.

*

Blaine is waiting for him at the subway station closest to the theater, and the first thing he asks is, “Did you tell them?”

Kurt nods, smiling. “Did you?”

Blaine nods as well. “Well, just Sam,” he says. “He said he always thought there was something more than just rivalry between us.”

Kurt chuckles. “I just told Mike and Elliott. They…” he presses his lips together, scrunching up his entire face, then settles on, “I wouldn’t say they took it well, but they also didn’t try and physically stop me from coming, so. I guess that’s something.”

Blaine reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, interlacing their fingers immediately. “I guess that’s that, then. Our friends know.”

“Our friends know,” Kurt nods. He squeezes Blaine’s hand. “And now there’s nothing hanging over us to stop us from enjoying our first official date.”

Blaine smirks a little, then asks, “Official?”

“Well, yeah, unlike those unofficial Not-A-Date’s we were going on before.”

Blaine laughs, lifting Kurt’s hand up to press a kiss to it. “You’re great, you know that?”

Kurt grins and nods. “Duh.”

*

Kurt’s apartment is closer to the theatre, and even though Blaine is a little concerned about the idea of flaunting their new relationship in Kurt’s teammates' faces so soon after revealing it, Kurt doesn’t care.

“They’re going to have to get used to seeing you around sooner or later,” Kurt reasons as they step onto the subway. “Might as well be sooner.”

Blaine grins, leaning into Kurt. “Planning on keeping me around for a while, huh?”

Kurt shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Blaine hides his face against Kurt’s shoulder, laughing a little. “We’ll see?”

Kurt shrugs again. “I mean, I kind of like you. A little. Which is weird, because I totally hated you a few months ago.”

“So weird,” Blaine agrees, kissing Kurt’s shoulder lightly. “I kind of like you too, you know?”

“Well that’s convenient,” Kurt says, and Blaine chuckles yet again.

*

Mike, Matt, and Jake are all sitting on the couch when Kurt and Blaine walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Matt says, eyes widening. “I thought you were joking,” this is directed at Mike, who rolls his eyes.

“I was not,” Mike says, glancing briefly at Kurt before looking back to the TV.

“I think it’s nice,” Jake says, smiling at the two of them. “Plus, it’s not like they were super subtle with the unresolved sexual tension on the field.”

“Unresolved?” Blaine asks quietly, and Kurt elbows him gently.

“Yeah, dude, good for you,” Matt says, giving Kurt a somewhat hesitant smile. “Anderson’s hot for a dude, even if he is a Lion.”

Both Jake and Matt turn to glare at Mike, who doesn’t respond until Jake kicks him swiftly in the shin.

“Ow, fuck,” Mike drops a hand down to rub at his shin, glaring at Jake before turning to Kurt and Blaine and saying, “Yeah, congratulations, I’m happy you’re happy.”

Kurt chuckles at that, shaking his head at how stubborn his teammates can be. “Mike, I think if you put aside our stupid rivalry – which doesn’t even really matter anymore because, if you didn’t notice, none of us play for the Violets anymore – you’ll find that you and Blaine actually have a lot in common. I bet you guys could even become friends.”

Mike waves a dismissive hand, eyes back on the TV. “Yeah, sure, I’ll get to work on that. Just don’t be too loud when you’re sexing it up in there, okay? It’s distracting.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but figures that’s about as good as it’s going to get for now. He pulls Blaine towards his room, ignoring the way that Blaine is shaking with silent laughter.

“I guess that could have gone worse?” Blaine says once Kurt has closed the door behind them.

“Way worse,” Kurt agrees, then pushes Blaine back onto his bed, wordlessly telling him that he’s done talking about it.

_the thirty-second time_

Sam is out, and Kurt and Blaine are tangled together under Blaine’s sheets. Kurt is trying to suck a hickey into the hollow of Blaine’s neck as subtly as possible, while Blaine ruts up against Kurt’s thigh, whining at the not-nearly-enough pressure Kurt is providing.

“Kurt, come on,” Blaine says, running a hand down Kurt’s back, fingernails scratching over him lightly.

“Come on, what?” Kurt asks, sucking a little harder at the red spot beneath his lips.

“Just… something. Anything.” Kurt smirks against Blaine’s skin, then lifts his head slightly so Blaine can see him raise his eyebrows at him challengingly.

Blaine huffs, digs his nails into Kurt’s back, and says, “Fuck me.”

Kurt pushes himself up to kiss Blaine softly on the lips, whispering, “See how easy it is to use your words?”

Blaine groans, pushing Kurt away and towards the nightstand where he keeps his lube and condoms.

Kurt goes happily, grabbing what they need and immediately starting to coat his fingers in the lube. He warms it up briefly, probably not enough, then brings two fingers down to Blaine’s hole and presses them in.

“Cold,” Blaine hisses, just as Kurt expected him to. Kurt chuckles, gently pressing the fingers in and out of him.

“You wanted _something_.”

“You’re a dick,” Blaine mutters, then gasps when Kurt curls his fingers inside him. Serves him right.

“Maybe enough using your words for now, huh?” Kurt continues the slow movement of his fingers, taking his time in a way that he knows drives Blaine absolutely crazy.

It’s at least five minutes before he pulls out to re-apply lube to his fingers, including a third this time. He presses them in far too slowly, and Blaine groans, punching a fist against the mattress as he lifts his hips and wriggles them.

“Come _on_ , Kurt,” he says. “It’s been forever since we did this.”

“Exactly,” Kurt whispers. “Which is why I want to be extra careful to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“For fuck’s – _Kurt_. _Please_.”

Kurt smirks, stretching his fingers out inside Blaine, then bringing them together to gently stroke at Blaine’s muscles with the pads of his fingers. He can feel the way Blaine contracts around him at the motion, and so repeats the action, thrilling at the feeling of it and the thought of how soon, he’ll be able to feel that around his cock.

“Kurt, oh my god,” Blaine says, punching the mattress again. “Do _not_ make me beg, I’m serious.”

As much as Kurt would love to go down that road, he does have to admit that he’s getting a little too worked up himself. With a quiet, “Alright, alright,” he pulls his fingers out. He makes quick work of the condom, rolling it on and then spreading a bit more lube over his cock.

Before long he’s lined himself up against Blaine’s hole and is pushing in slowly, no longer to tease Blaine but out of fear of this being over embarrassingly soon.

“Shit,” Blaine groans. “You’re so big. Don’t know how I always forget you’re so big.”

Kurt barely hears the praise, focusing on not coming instantly as Blaine’s tight, hot body welcomes him in.

Once he’s bottomed out, he pauses for a moment, eyes shut, and hands clenched around the sheets around Blaine’s head. He bites down on his bottom lip, breathing in and out through his nose.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt’s eyes open to find Blaine’s directly below him, staring up at him with blown pupils and a softness that Kurt can’t really believe is directed at him. “Hey,” Blaine continues when Kurt’s eyes have opened. “You okay?”

Kurt nods, then lowers himself down to press a kiss to Blaine’s lips, his cock shifting inside of Blaine as he does so.

“Fuck,” he mutters at the same time as Blaine says, “Oh, shit,” against his lips. They both chuckle quietly, and then, not wanting to waste more time, Kurt begins to roll his hips in a slow, but steady, pace.

Blaine’s head falls back against the mattress, and he hooks a leg around Kurt’s hips, pulling him in just a little deeper with every thrust.

Neither speaks as they build a rhythm together, their bodies moving in sync. Despite how many times they’ve done this, Kurt still finds himself amazed at how well they fit together. How easy it is to be with Blaine like this. How, even when they hated each other, he couldn’t help but admit that nobody had ever been so perfectly matched for him, sexually, as Blaine is.

Now, of course, he knows that it’s more than just sex. The few weeks he’s been dating Blaine have felt like something out of his high school fantasies. The way their conversations ebb and flow come as easily as the movements of their bodies together. Their plans always line up perfectly, even if they aren’t exactly what either of them planned, and every time he leaves Blaine’s apartment, or wherever they’ve met up, or watches as Blaine leaves him, he starts to count down the minutes until they will see each other again.

It was only months ago that he hated the fact that he couldn’t stop falling into bed with Blaine. Now he can’t imagine why he would be doing anything else.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Blaine says, bringing up his other leg to full wrap around Kurt. Kurt takes the hint and begins to speed up his thrusts, simultaneously bringing a hand down to jack Blaine off as he does.

He can feel his own orgasm building but does his best to hold it back. Blaine starts to whine as he gets closer, and soon enough he’s coming over Kurt’s fist, his muscles contracting around Kurt in what Kurt is pretty sure is the closest he will ever feel to heaven.

Kurt lets himself follow Blaine, the feeling of the muscles around him just enough to push him over the edge. He fucks Blaine through it, reveling in the sounds of Blaine’s moans as he starts to come down from his orgasm just moments before Kurt does.

He pulls out as soon as he’s finished, careful to go slow. He makes quick work of the clean up, throwing out the condom and grabbing a few tissues from Blaine’s nightstand to mop things up quickly.

“We’re going to have to shower,” Blaine mutters as Kurt tosses the tissues in the general direction of the trash.

“I have no problem with that,” Kurt says, lowering himself back onto the bed and curling into Blaine’s side.

They lay in silence for a few moments, Kurt enjoying the rise and fall of Blaine’s chest under his cheek. He notices that the spot he’d been sucking on early is indeed starting to darken further, and grins to himself at the knowledge that he put that there. That he’s the one who gets to kiss Blaine, fuck him, and give him hickeys to announce to the entire world that there is someone in Blaine’s life who wants to be known.

He smiles, running a finger in slow circles over Blaine’s chest.

“Hey,” he says, turning his head slightly to make sure that Blaine can hear him well.

“Yeah?”

Kurt feels his smile growing a little bit more as he asks, “Be my boyfriend?”

The sound of Blaine’s heart speeding up in his chest is enough answer for Kurt, but the soft, sweet, “Of course,” that Blaine whispers seconds after Kurt has asked is even better.

_the first time_

The tiled wall of the shower stall is cool against Kurt’s palm, but Blaine’s back is warm against his chest, his hip is hot under Kurt’s other hand, and his ass is scorching around his cock. Not to mention the spray of warm water falling over them as they groan in unison, Kurt pressing Blaine’s body into the cool tile with every thrust.

It happened fast. They were the last two in the Lions locker room, exchanging snide jabs over the tiny dividing wall between their showers. Blaine leaned over a little too far during a retort and his eye travelled down. The longer he stared, the more it affected Kurt, who found himself embarrassingly hardening under the eye of his rival.

Then, they were kissing. First over the shower divider, then together in Blaine’s shower stall, Kurt pressing Blaine up against the wall. Then Blaine was excusing himself and returning surprisingly quickly with a travel-sized pack of lube and a condom. He pushed the items into Kurt’s hand, then pressed himself back up against the wall, ass sticking out invitingly.

And now they’re here. Despite being able to follow the chain of events quite easily, Kurt is still having some trouble believing that it’s real, that he’s actually fucking Blaine Anderson in the goddamn Lions showers.

“Just so you know,” Blaine says, voice breathless, “this doesn’t change anything. I still hate you.”

“Ditto,” Kurt retorts, moving the hand on the wall down to Blaine’s other hip to be able to fuck him a little more forcefully.

“Shit,” Blaine mutters. Then, a little louder, “I’m still going to kick your ass during this tournament.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Kurt replies, thrusting deep into Blaine’s ass.

“And this isn’t going to become a thing,” Blaine continues as though Kurt hadn’t said anything. “We’re not going to become fuck buddies, or something like that.”

“Don’t you have to be buddies for that to work?” Kurt asks, punctuating the sarcasm with another forceful thrust.

“Exact- _fuck_ ,” Blaine’s forehead falls forward and rests against the tiled wall. “So, we’re agreed.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, gripping Blaine’s hips a little tighter. “Just a one-time fuck. Relieve the tension.”

“Great,” Blaine says. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Kurt continues to fuck Blaine as hard as he can in this position, digging his fingernails into Blaine’s hips, hoping to leave marks that will last at least a few days.

“Definitely,” Kurt manages, pressing his entire body right up against Blaine’s, taking in his warmth, how tight he feels, how perfect he fits against him. If this is going to be the only time, he gets to do this, after all, he’s going to do everything he can to take it all in. Wring every drop of this moment into his mind, where he knows he’ll replay it for at least the entire duration of this tournament every single time he jacks off.

Blaine shouts, “Fuck, _Kurt_ ,” and Kurt feels his orgasm growing from the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice so quiet he’s not sure Blaine can hear him even from this close. “Definitely same page.”

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable on tumblr ](https://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/617729622155657216/enemies-with-benefits)


End file.
